


A Padawan's Thoughts

by JAvatar



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:30:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAvatar/pseuds/JAvatar
Summary: Really just a collection of silly thoughts I had when SWTOR first came out, from the IC perspective of a Jedi Consular.





	1. Initial Thoughts

Ja'on walked slowly to the shuttle resting atop the Jedi Temple. His adventures on Tython had been exhausting, both physically and mentally. Frustration had been building, but he kept chanting his mantra over and over, the first line from the Jedi Code: "There is no emotion, there is peace." He felt a presence behind him, before being pushed aside by one of his fellow students, one of the more aggresive mirilians. "Load up or get out of the way, Ja'on," he chided before getting on the shuttle. This padawan was the primary cause for his tension, constantly challenging Ja'on to duels, yelling across the whole world about his prowess and manliness, how women just fell to his feet. All in all, a pain in the...."There is no emotion, there is peace."

He smiled to the crew as he boarded the smallish craft, taking one of the few seats, others excited about their tasks, some talking about how they would focus their training, the more martial students talking about the qualities of offense and defense. Being of a more scholarly type, he knew his role, he would learn the secrets of the force, and use them to aid the wounded and downtrodden. Finally, the craft vibrated, then with a whine from the engines, it lifted from the ground, and they were off to the republic fleet.

After docking, the handful of passengers disembarked, most of them running off, hooting and hollaring, jumping around. "Bunch of hooligans," he thought to himself as he walked through the hanger, noticing the almost run-down look of his surroundings, yet appreciative for what the fleet stood for. On his way to Coruscant, he was stopped for a moment by one of the Masters, who informed him it was time to dedicate himself to his chosen path. He went where instructed, listened and absorbed knowledge, and in the process learned how to use the Force to heal wounds, and extending his capabilities of telekinesis. He also learned about the various arts of crafting, but decided he would be best suited to just gather. After all, knowledge was power, and others would pay good credits, enough to live off of anyways, for materials he might find.

On his way to the tunnel, he met his rival running through the halls, jumping like an idiot for no other reason than he could, now holding two lightsabers, both ignited. While he tried to duck away, Ja'on wasn't quick enough and was already spotted, and the other started with his peculiar dialect. "Lol! U suxors, R stewpd wit ur 1 blade. Duel me nao, bi atch!"

Enough was enough, and finally, Ja'on accepted, backing up to give as much range between him and the pain. Soon as the duel officially started, Ja'on channeled, opening the fight by using the force to throw something at his rival, expecting any of the loose debris, shelves, or whatever else was around to be thrown.

So, when he ripped a giant, antique, clay urn from the steel deck of the station floating in space, he could only respond with "Wha?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe. This was really just a build up to how the Consular's Project ability, while varied, doesn't take into account where you are. It just rips the same items(though there is a large variety to them) from the ground.
> 
> My favorite thing to throw is T7.


	2. The Duel

The urn smashed into my rival, pieces of broken pottery flying in every direction, the blow staggering him for a moment. Having watched him duel before, always challenging the youngest and least trained of our order, some barely stepping foot from the Master's Retreat, I knew that he liked to open with a leap. My initial strike had kept him from initiating his attack, but I knew it was fast coming, so I took a few hastey steps back. Soon as he regained his senses, he did as predicted, leaping the 30 meters between us like it were nothing, landing and swinging his blades viciously.

I was able to get my own blade between us, but the clashing beams jarred my arms, easily sapping some of my strength. Instead of returning the saber strike, though, I channeled the force, and smashed him with it instead, wearing down his own strength, and throwing his mind into disarray, holding him fast for a few seconds. Pressing my advantage, I focused myself, throwing a wave of energy at him, the conduit of energy sucking up various golf-ball sized rocks, which didn't exist on the durasteel plate floor before using my power, and chucking them at him. My channel ended right as he came out of his daze, and he started to press his attack anew, this time forced to perform standard attacks, I believe from the Shii-Cho style, though I could be wrong.

My own blade was quick enough to prevent any life-threatening injuries, and the energy suppressor on the station kept our blade outputs to training levels, so I knew I wouldn't die, but it still stung. I channeled once again, this time ripping a boulder from the floor, smashing it into him. Taking the second he was out of it, I practiced my newest technique, and utilized the force to heal the minor burns I had acquired thus far. Feeling refreshed, watching him come at me again, I focused one last time, easily seeing his exhausted frame slouching as he tried to press his attack. Just as he swung, I unleashed a massive wave of the Force, slamming into him, draining the last of his stamina.

"Well fought, Padawan," I started to say, as he screamed "HAX0RZ! How U gt healt bak?! HAX!" Fed up, I just walked away, shaking my head softly as I went.

"I wonder if the Sith have to deal with such problems," I mused.

Meanwhile, on Hutta~~~  
Mako laid on the ground, beaten into unconciousness, while Vette kept blasting away at the blue-energy surrounded Bounty Hunter, who kept his single blaster pistol trained and unleashing on the red-headed cyborg, her two blades hissing as she seemingly effortlessly deflected his shots aimed at her back. She turned on the more heavily armored foe, smashing them into his armor repeatedly. As they fought, an undercover member of Imperial Intelligence who had been challenged by, and lost to, the Powertech looked on. When the Bounty Hunter finally fell to his knees, he started yelling across the world, "Of course u won, u sith!"

The redhead just shook her head as she walked off. "I just learned to sustain a sprint, and you're obviously more powerful than I am. AND you are designed to take, mitigate, and reduce damage. You should have easily won."

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she wandered off, muttering to herself, the only words left on the wind, "I really wonder if the republic has the same issues."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is just my "thoughts" story going on. The second, I witnessed. Level 17 Powertech just beat a level 4 Imperial Agent in a duel, when this level 14 cyborg marauder walked up. She asked who challenged who, and when the powertech said he had challenged the IA, she challenged him. After buffing them both, and not getting a return buff. She killed the PT's Mako, then turned on the PT, and beat him into the ground. I put my own spin on the conversation, I think it her reply was "I shouldn't have beaten you. I'm a pure DPS in med armor, and you're a freaking TANK class. Learn to play!" lol.


	3. Training

"But Master, I still don't understand."

Ja'on was seated next to one of his instructors on Coruscant, in the fairway tunnel located outside the Senate Towers. He had just "donated" a hefty sum of credits to the Order, and honed his skills further, even learning a new technique.

"Why do I have to pay credits to learn my skills? Surely the Jedi Order, in its pursuit of knowledge, can share such information freely."

"Think of it, not as a payment, but an investment, young padawan. An investment in your future."

Not to be put off so easily, Ja'on continued. "Very well then, Master, as an investment, I want to know how it works. I can see pay...er...investing to learn new techniques, but to refine and improve the ones I already know? To hone my ability to project items costs almost as much as it was to learn how to assail my opponent's mind, and I just learned that one! Not to mention a near linear increase in the cost of learning new and refining skills I already know!"

The Master sighed, resting his head on his hand for a moment, before looking back up at the young man. "Listen, padawan, it's just how things currently are. The Republic as a whole is still recovering from the assaults of the war. Coruscant itself is still in shambles, and our Temple is still in ruins. Unfortunately, credits make the universe run, and the Order needs a source of income as well. We charge to teach and refine skills, at an increase, to ensure that there is a flow of money, in AND out. Now please, drop this issue? Perhaps in the future, things will work out without needed money, but that time is not now. Finally...would you also like to learn how to sustain a sprint using the Force? It will be useful in expediting your travels."

Ja'on sighed, thankful he was adept at gathering and selling materials, otherwise he might have had trouble keeping up with his....training.

~~~~Meanwhile on Dromund Kaas~~~~  
Leakre, the red-headed cyborg drew her two sabres, Vette stepping back fearfully, the well-used shock collar a reminder to keep her mouth shut. "What do you mean, I have to pay to keep improving my skills? Why can't I just torture the information from you?"

The Sith Lord that had been helping her just smirked and sniffed, unaffected by the outburst of rage. "Simple. If you're too weak to earn enough to buy the training, you don't deserve it. Now, pay or leave. I'm a busy man."

After a moment's thought, the red-head deactivated her sabers, hanging the hilts on her belt. "Fine. Teach me," she hissed as she used the credit stick to transfer the funds, muttering the whole time about how stupid the rules were, Vette cringing, expecting to be the target of her Master's rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. Leakre is the red-headed marauder from the previous chapter, used with permission by her player, Jill.


	4. What about Lore?

Ja'on was panting, holding his saber in a defensive position, sweat dripping from his forhead. Deep in the Old Market on Coruscant, he was cornered by enforcers of the Migrant Merchant's Guild. He had defeated two of his pursuers already, relying on keeping the vibro-sword wielders at range with the Force, but it had been taxing. The third, so much stronger than the others, it was rediculous, was much harder to put off.

The green beam of energy hummed, the nosie almost comforting to the padawan as he readied himself for the onslaught of strikes about to be unleashed. As the thug came at him, he threw everything he had, chucking a boulder at the man, followed by the stream of rocks. This slowed the advance, which let that channel bleed completely dry, before his opponent was in striking range.

"I had been proud that I had not needed to rely on this yet," he thought to himself, "but this will end the fight." Shifting his grip, he channeled the force, not externally, but within himself, pumping his muscles, expanding his strength. Just as he was about to be struck, he went on the offensive, taking two vicious swings at the man, expecting to kill him instantly. When he failed to cut the man's clothing open, let alone kill him, his face was set with shock.

"What the?" he managed to utter before the glowing weapon in his opponent's hands smashed into his arm. The pain was intense, but it drew no blood, and didn't dismember or even break his bones. "Now I know the Force is screwing with me," he thought hysterically before the area around him exploded, repeatedly, after which the thug dropped to the ground, defeated.

Shocked at the turn of events, seeing that the explosions didn't even get his boots dirty, he looked around. On the road in front of the building was a member of the Republic Army, a heavy looking assault cannon held deftly in his hands. The other man gave a tilt of his head, before walking off, a very attractive woman following him.

"WHAT?!"

Ja'on deactivated his saber, shaking his head, completely confused at these turns of events.....the lightsaber not cutting through everything save Cortosis or Phrik...the mortar explosions killing his enemy but not even touching him....he had much to meditate on before venturing out again....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next installment of Thoughts. Ja'on's having harder and harder times dealing with the Mechanics of TOR. hehe


	5. Dreams of Electric Sheep?

Ja'on had always been a good person, always held the Jedi Code in his heart, followed the rules, and trusted the Force to guide him through life. And thus far, none could say he had fallen to the Dark Side in any decision he had ever made.

He also had weird reoccuring dreams, certain missions or tasks, almost identical every time. One in particular, boarding the Esseles to fly from the Republic Fleet to Coruscant, was regular when he was first heading to the capital of the Republic, though in each dream those he traveled with seemed to change. Though that mattered little. Every time he dreamed, he always did what was right.

Today, much stronger than when he started the dreams, he was actually boarding the Esseles with three others, a member of the Army, a rogue ship captain, and a fellow jedi, though one of the knights, a member that focused on lightsaber combat over the secrets of the force.

As he boarded and moved through the ship, it was like his dreams, exact in almost every detail. As they moved, he noticed his companions a little closer. The rogue was sporting two blaster pistols, while the Army man used a simple rifle with what appeared to be a shield generator integrated into his armor. The fellow Jedi was dual-armed as well, and if today's trip actually played out as his dreams showed, then he knew the well-rounded group would handle all problems with ease.

And, while they were talking to a Twi'lek passenger, the dream played itself out easily. The Empire attacked the ship, his companions and he running to the bridge, helping defend the civilians. And, just as in his dreams, the Moff appeared, and gave the same responses as always. It was freakishly eerie how similar the real mission and the dreams were playing out.

Because of the similarities, he knew every twist and turn his mission was taking long before it happened, which helped, considering he was, by far, the strongest and most experienced member of the four. Therefor, when he made it to engineering, with the bridge in lockdown, he knew that one of the junior members would suggest a reactor reset, and the concequences. Every dream, no matter how many times he dreamt, he refused that course of action, instead shutting down the security conduits to end the lockdown. He had uttered the lines so many times, he knew exactly what he was going to say.

"Well, the engineers will die, so the rest may live. Your sacrifice will not be in vain," the words flowed so easily from his lips! Before he could respond, act, or renounce what he just said, his body moved, almost as of its own accord, to the panel to reset the reactor, flushing the helpless people from the ship into space. The whole time, his mind was screaming, "NO! That's not how it's supposed to be!"

He continued through the mission, though, as though he had not just killed eight unarmed civilians. As though their loss was nothing. They boarded the bridge, fought the mandalorians sitting there, then went onto the imperial ship, fought their way through it, deactivating the tractor beam. Finally, after defeating all the forces thrown at them, they were ready to end the mission, and take the Ambassador back. He knew the captain did not want that, after all, if the Moff had her, why would he chase them? And every dream, he took her back, without fail. There were a couple dreams, where he told her of the Captain's plan, but still took her back.

So, when he drew his saber, threatening to attack her, forcing her back while he and his companions boarded the shuttle, he was the most shocked person of them all. He couldn't even apologize to her, force his hands off his blade, nothing. He just left her to a mock trial, torture, and eventual execution. And while his mind screamed how wrong it was, he just did it!

A hour later, when he finished reporting what happened and his thoughts on everything, the Masters just looked at each other, then one gave him a comforting smile. "It's ok, young Padawan. It happens to the best of us. Maybe next time you'll right those wrongs? Your choices did give you the right to wear a new title, but..."

Ja'on cut him off, "Next time? What next time?! I left the Ambassador to die, Master! I just...." Mid-sentence, he just collapsed to the floor, the last fleeting thought was perhaps he was going insane as exhaustion took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another stage in Thoughts. The ending was "nap time" which is the only possible explanation I can think of ICly for logging out in various areas. Fell asleep at the cantina table, went to be in your ship, just collapsed from running around for 16 hours at a full sprint hacking, channeling, and shooting at things, etc.
> 
> Also the "dreams" he had about running the Esseles is the only logical explanation for repeatable quests(heroics, flashpoints, etc).


	6. Final Thoughts of a Padawan

Ja'on had lost it completely. He was running around Coruscant in just his undergarments, jumping madly as he went, screaming maniacally. The normal residents and guards paid him no mind, while others ignored him or maybe rose an eyebrow questioningly at his actions.

"It's a game! Don't you see?" Over and over, he screamed the same thing. "We're all in a game!"

He went to one of the local vendors, sold all of his posessions, then ran around again. He saw a trooper, a young lieutenant, and ran up to him. "We're in a game! Here you go," he said, before giggling hysterically, shoving the credit stick in the astonished man's hand, before running off again, randomly breaking out in dance, flirting with people, and just sitting in the middle of the road.

Lt. Akarek, the newly appointed CO of Havoc Squad, just stared at the stick, worth well over 8,000 credits, with a dumb-struck look on his face. Sgt Jorgan, the first member appointed to the squad after Akarek's promotion, chuckled. "At least he's happy. And we can use that money to upgrade our gear."

The Lieutenant shook his head, pocketed the stick, and turned to his companion. "Let's not keep the General waiting then," he said quietly, the two heading to the senate towers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ja'on. The 4th wall was too much for him.
> 
> And I hope this little silly thing made anyone who reads it smile.


End file.
